


Contravene

by TheVoiceofWrath (meet_your_fate)



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: Angst, M/M, No Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-15
Updated: 2011-03-15
Packaged: 2017-10-16 23:40:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/170612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meet_your_fate/pseuds/TheVoiceofWrath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Sylar does things without really knowing why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Contravene

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fic from over on my LJ. This thing makes me feel so bad for Luke ;__;

It’s almost inhumane, Sylar thinks as a he looks out at the rows upon rows of unconscious people in Building 26. There was a time in his life when he’d have felt like a kid in a candy store. With them drugged like they were, Sylar could kill them one by one and wouldn’t even have to deal with the screaming. He’d broken in, of course; he was still public enemy number one, personal favors for Danko aside. He just wants to fully comprehend what he’s dealing with. And this is quite the operation. Like something out of the Twilight Zone. That’s when he sees him, towards the end of the far row, reddish brown hair mussed and chest slowly moving.

Luke.

The rage that comes over Sylar is a little confusing, but it’s all encompassing. He can hardly breathe, he’s so angry. He almost does something foolish. He almost hoists the teen over his shoulder and carries him to safety. But he doesn’t. He has better control than that. He shouldn’t have done that the first time, but he certainly can’t do it now. He can’t let on that there’s a single being on this planet that makes his blood boil like that, especially when cameras are rolling. There are always cameras in these places. He can’t let Danko know that there’s anything that can be used against him, and it seems that Luke is just that. Sylar wonders when exactly _that_ happened. Apparently, sometime between that boarded up diner and now. He didn’t hesitate for even a nanosecond when he left Luke behind before, but the idea of leaving him here, even just temporarily, isn’t something Sylar is comfortable with.

He looks away; can’t let his eyes seem to linger. They’ll watch this eventually, even if he doesn’t trigger any alarms. He’s trying to come up with a plan. A plan that won’t make him seem… vulnerable. Telling Danko to let Luke go or else isn’t very bright. He’ll just have to play the hero and let them all go. Some will make it, some won’t. Sylar doesn’t care. So long as Luke is taken far, far away from this. He uses his telekinesis to pull the tubes out of all of their nostrils simultaneously. He stands there, within eyesight if Luke, and waits.

It takes a few moments before eyes start to flutter open. Not Luke’s, of course; he’s a lightweight and the drugs seem to have a stronger effect on him. People are sitting up and freaking out and some have even started moving around before he can see Luke’s irises. The other people are looking to him for answers. He pretends that they aren’t there. Luke sits up and scans the room. When he spots Sylar, Luke’s face lights up for a split second and then darkness falls over those boyish features. He gets off the bed and walks in the opposite direction from Sylar.

That throws Sylar a bit. Luke is always so talkative and annoying. Sylar had figured that Luke would be confrontational about his abandonment, would at least yell. Instead, he opens a door and steps out into a hallway. Luke can’t have any idea where he’s going, and he’s going a different direction than the masses. Sylar follows.

It turns out Luke had the better idea. He can hear the screams of the others even after two flights of stairs. They must be running around like chickens with their heads cut off, disorganized and helpless, while agents round them up. Sylar sees the door to the emergency exit swing shut and hurries to get outside before Luke can disappear. When he swings the metal door open, he finds the teen leaning up against the bricks that form the building’s outer wall. He’s looking at his foot while he scuffs his shoe on the pavement. Sylar thinks that Luke is waiting to be left behind, wants to make sure that Sylar isn’t following him, that it’s just coincidence Sylar came down this stairway instead of taking any number of other paths. He thinks that Luke should know by now that there aren’t coincidences, not for people like them. Sylar steps in front of him, but Luke doesn’t raise his face.

“Come with me,” Sylar says. They can’t have this conversation here, not in front of the cameras. Danko can’t see Sylar do anything for this boy. Let the man think that Sylar lured him off and killed him even though that’s the last thing he wants to do. Get Luke crossed off the list with ‘deceased’ written next to his name in big, red letters. Sylar turns away and begins the walk to where his newly stolen car is parked just a few blocks away. He doesn’t look to see if Luke follows him, but he hears Luke’s reluctant steps. Even Luke knows that there’s no where else to go, that the only person who can stop him from being overpowered by soldiers and taken in is Sylar. Luke’s just not strong enough, not yet. He hasn’t really had the opportunity to hone his skills.

When he sees the green SUV that’s his according to that incredibly outdated saying about possession being nine tenths of the law, Sylar changes course and steps into the nearest alley. He goes far enough inside of it that, when he stops to have his encounter with Luke, people won’t be able to see them from the street. Luke only takes a few steps into the alley. Like he’s worried about being in a situation where no one can witness what’s happening. Sylar looks at him and raises an eyebrow. Luke knows full well that Sylar doesn’t need Luke to want to do something; he can just make him. Luke fleetingly meets his eyes before lowering them back down and taking several steps further into the alley.

“You let them catch you?” is the first question Sylar asks. He has a sneaking suspicion that what he means is, ‘Was it my fault?’ Luke doesn’t answer either question, just raises his face to give Sylar a dirty look. Which, on second thought, is probably a pretty good answer.

“How long have they had you?” An even dirtier look, like maybe they picked him up just after Sylar had left him behind. Is Luke giving him the silent treatment? Sylar hates the silent treatment on any occasion, but he hates it even worse coming from Luke. It’s unnatural for him to be so quiet. Sylar’s starting to worry that they might have cut his tongue out to shut him up. The idea had certainly crossed Sylar’s mind before, when Luke would go on and on and on about the stupidest things. That they would do such a thing to his… whatever made him see red all over again. His sidekick, his minion? His obnoxious little punk, at any rate. How dare they?

He strides forward and grabs Luke’s chin with his left hand. He pointedly ignores the way Luke steps backwards and flinches away from him, the way his eyes fill with fear and anger. It’s easy to force the boy’s mouth open. His full lips curl up slightly in something like a snarl, a baring of teeth. Sylar ignores that and looks at Luke’s fully intact tongue, wonders if there’s some other reason Luke can’t talk to him. Maybe they’d beaten him into submission. But, no; that can’t be it. It couldn’t have been long enough for someone with Luke’s spirit and experience to break. And it seemed like Danko was drugging them instead of beating them. The only visible injury Luke has is the scabbed over, infected looking head wound Sylar had given him.

Luke can talk alright; he just won’t. Sylar drops his hand and takes a few steps back. Well, isn’t that a development? The honeymoon must be over, Sylar thinks. Luke isn’t struck with awe and wonderment at everything Sylar does, apparently doesn’t want to weasel his way into going along for the ride anymore. That ship has sailed. Sylar had broken his only rule. Hit him, hurt him, throw him around; just don’t leave him. Luke isn’t old enough to understand that everybody leaves eventually. Even happy, carefree people are all alone in the end.

Sylar reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out some cash. Not a lot, but it’s everything he has on him. He gets the keys out of his jacket. He steps closer to Luke and grabs his hand, places the money and the keys there and closes Luke’s fingers around them. The least he can do is give the kid a chance to escape this city, get to Canada so he can rob old ladies or whatever it is that Luke wants to do now. Luke’s brows furrow and he tilts his head to the side, asks what Sylar’s doing without words.

“Get out of here,” Sylar says. He doesn’t want to leave first, doesn’t want Luke to remember him as just another back walking away. Doesn’t understand why it’s so important that Luke have good memories of him.

He’s still holding Luke’s hand, has it wrapped between both of his like in those movies he always hated. Sylar’s not the handholding type, but he’s doing it now. He’s doing a lot of things today that aren’t part of his normal repertoire.

Luke yanks his hand free and bites his lips, like he wants so badly to speak but he’s using all of his willpower not to. His eyes are screwed shut tightly, like maybe he’s fighting tears. Not for the first time, Sylar wishes he’d been able to add telepathy to his metaphorical deck of cards. Luke opens his eyes and they’re a little watery. There’s an age there that Sylar doesn’t remember from before. Sylar hates that it was him who put it there.

Luke throws his handful of money and metal at Sylar’s chest. If looks could kill, Sylar thinks, he’d be dying a very painful death. “You don’t need to bribe me to get me to leave you alone. You’ve already proved how little you want me around. I can take a hint.”

They’re the first words Luke’s said to him and Sylar thinks that, if it were possible, his heart would be breaking. “That’s not-”

“Don’t tell me that isn’t what you’re doing. You gave me money and keys and told me to go.” If Luke would have allowed himself, Sylar thinks his lip would have quivered. “Why can’t you ever just stay gone? You’re like, the biggest disappointment in my entire life. My dad only ever left me once. What does this make for you; three or four? I guess I’ve lost count. Am I going to have to check the face of every dark haired man in a black coat I come across just to make sure it isn’t you? Make up your mind, Sylar! There are a lot of things I can endure, but not this. When you leave this time, leave and don’t come back. But you’re not going to get me to leave first.”

Sylar clenches his fist around the keys while he sticks the cash back in his pocket. He hadn’t realized until just now how much he’d hurt Luke. If Luke had a therapist, Sylar thinks that they’d spend a good amount of time talking about him. He’d be on the list up by ‘father issues’, and he wonders if he might even be higher because what he’d done had reinforced those issues, had multiplied them tenfold. He’s tries to apologize with his eyes, but doesn’t think it works. He puts his hand on Luke’s shoulder and spins him around, leads him to the car. He’ll drive the kid somewhere at the very least; get him a hotel room and a shower. A hot meal or two. Sylar walks around to the driver’s side and gets in. The key is in the ignition before he realizes that Luke hasn’t even opened the passenger door. He rolls down the window and looks at the teen.

“I don’t want to go with you.” He says it with conviction, but it’s still a lie.

“Bullshit,” Sylar calls. Luke steps forward and rests his arms on the open window.

“Yeah, well, that makes me masochistic. But I don’t need to go with you and I’m going to look after my needs for the time being. I need air; I need food; I need to stay away from you. I’m not strong enough. You’ll just ditch me again, anyway. Let’s call it as it is. You want a puppy to follow you around, but only when it suits you. I want a stable human relationship, someone who won’t leave me. These two wants are obviously in opposition of each other. It was fun while it lasted. It’s an interesting story, road tripping with a serial killer. Not like I’ll ever have anyone to tell it to. People don’t listen to my words, anyway; just complain about how annoying the sound of them is. Go, Sylar. Don’t look back. I’m still a little groggy from the drugs, anyway. I can chalk this whole thing up to hallucination and maybe I’ll be fine. Probably I won’t be, but that’s not something that you’ve ever taken into consideration before. Besides, it’s what you do best. Right up there with slicing open heads.” Luke chuckles at his own joke. Sylar feels like he’s been sucker punched.

“Are you going to make me beg?” Sylar asks, hopes that Luke really won’t make him. He doesn’t think he remembers how.

“Wouldn’t that be something? Don’t, though. I don’t want to remember you as the criminal that begged me to get in his car. It sounds a little inappropriate.”

Sylar nods his head slightly in agreement. “Let me drive you somewhere at least. You don’t want to be around here, all alone, when they start sweeping the city.”

Luke has to know that Sylar’s grasping at straws, that he’s just trying to get Luke to go with him. Sylar doesn’t even understand why he wants the boy to tag along. He didn’t just a few minutes ago. Maybe he’s just sick of being alone. He blames it on whatever it is that’s making him do things he normally wouldn’t.

“You know, you could just kill me and take my power. Then, I’d always be with you, but I’d be way less annoying.” Sylar laughs. The kid might be on to something.

“We’ll get milkshakes.”

Luke raises his hands to stop this nonsense. “Wait, wait; hold up. You will drink a milkshake? I didn’t think you were capable of something so immature.”

“I’m doing all kinds of weird stuff today for reasons I don’t understand. Why not add a milkshake?” Luke looks dubious.

“And then we’ll part ways like two fully functional human beings, even though we’re just about as far from that as a person can get?”

“That’s the idea.”

Luke gets into the car.

They get shakes and food at a diner an hour outside of the city. Luke laughs at Sylar because he gets a vanilla shake, says that Sylar is the squarest serial killer in the history of the world. Luke makes a mess of himself with cheese fries, laughs like he feels joy.

After dinner, Luke doesn’t argue when Sylar checks them into a motel.

It’s late, or maybe early, when Luke crawls into Sylar’s bed. He curls right up against Sylar’s body and fists a hand into Sylar’s shirt like he’s worried he’ll get pushed away. He won’t be.

“What can I do to make you stay?” It’s mumbled against his shoulder and Sylar wishes he could pretend he didn’t hear it.

“It doesn’t work like that, Luke.”

“There’s not a single thing I wouldn’t do.” Sylar wraps his arm around Luke and pulls him close. He speaks into soft brown hair.

“I know.” And Sylar does know. He knows that Luke would kill for him; he’s done it before. He knows that Luke’s loyalty should be kind of terrifying, and that it says something about his own issues that it isn’t.

“You’re going to leave anyway, aren’t you?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe. That’s not good enough, is it?”

“It’s better than nothing.” Sylar presses his lips to Luke’s temple.

He thinks that this is more than a little bit dysfunctional, that things are happening in ways they shouldn’t be happening. But when has anything that wasn’t dysfunctional ever happened to either of them? This is just evolution.


End file.
